


Don't Carry the World Upon Your Shoulders

by FandomLifeTookMyHandAndSaidRUN



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Deviates From Canon, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, my first wannabe drabble, sorry no smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-05-01 03:40:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5190794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FandomLifeTookMyHandAndSaidRUN/pseuds/FandomLifeTookMyHandAndSaidRUN
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carol is in a dark place, and worrying about Daryl who hasn't returned yet from drawing the walker herd away.  Takes place just after 6.02 JSS, and diverts from canon thereafter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Carry the World Upon Your Shoulders

**Author's Note:**

> Title is taken from lyrics from The Beatle's "Hey Jude." This is my first wanna-be drabble! I'm excited! I've tried to do 500 words or less in the past, and it's never worked. This is just a hair over a thousand words, and just one of many MANY different scenarios that have run through my head of how Caryl will be reunited.

Carol stood at the counter, a slew of various ingredients strewn about, and a casserole dish in front of her.  She had the makings of another “spring cleaning” casserole.  Dragging the backside of her hand over her forehead, she pushed back the soft silvery grey hair from her face, and reached for the utensils across the way, groaning slightly at the pull on her tender muscles. It had been only a few days since the attack on Alexandria, and the subsequent unleashing of a herd of walkers against its walls.  They had fought hard, and valiantly.  And won.  Walls were pushed down during the melee, and nearly a third of the Alexandrian’s lost their lives.

Carol assigned herself meal duty, making the casseroles and meals and delivering them to those that were too sick or injured to fully care for themselves.  Taking on the role, once again, of invisible housewife.  

As she stirred the ingredients within the dish, she thought of their group.  How hard they had struggled just to get to Alexandria, and how hard they had fought to keep their place.  Everyone had made it back from the Walker Parade.  Well, everyone except Daryl.  He had split off from Abraham and Sasha, in hopes of trying to rein in the stragglers.  But they lost sight of him, and chose to rush for home to save lives there versus the one of Daryl.  A decision that did not come easily.  Carol had wanted to go out and search for Daryl afterwards, but Rick and Deanna denied her request. “Give him time, he’ll find his way back,” they said.  “We desperately need your help here…. Thousands of walkers, Carol.  There won’t even be a body.”  Angry tears had spilled over despite her very best efforts to hide them, and she had excused herself from the room.

She wouldn’t grieve.  She wouldn’t mourn him.  He wasn’t gone, she refused to admit it.  But that didn’t stop the deep melancholy that she was currently feeling, the emptiness inside.

Absentmindedly staring out the window at the rusted walls beyond, she gave the dish a final stir, and then placed it into the preheated oven.  She set to washing the dishes, listening for Judith to rise from her nap, and to the various sounds of normalcy of Alexandria spilling in from the open window nearby.  

The creak and squeal of metal on metal could be heard every so often as the people made their way in and out of the gates.  Off on runs to find new materials to repair the walls, back inside to tend to their wounded, and to bury their dead.  Every now and then a commotion of raised voices, petty arguments, emotions running high with everyone struggling to re-secure their community.  It made Carol’s chest just ache.  Security.  Was that even possible in this world anymore?

She noted Rick’s voice, couldn’t make out the words but his tone and drawl unmistakable.  Excitable.  There was some clapping, cheering?  What was going on?  She wiped her hands on the nearby towel, dropping it back to the counter as she made her way out the side door.  A small crowd had formed at the gates, there were smiles, high fives.  

As if he could read her mind and the question that alighted there, Rick turned toward Carol, flashing her a wide grin.  She barely registered a smirk back at him, what could he be so happy about?  The infamous pasta maker, had one been found? Had more panels for the wall been discovered?  Was Abraham ahead of schedule?  No… something was different.  

Then she saw it.  As the crowd began to part, first the heavy tread of a tire.  Two arms outstretched over handlebars, shaggy head dipped with the effort of pushing the motorcycle forward.  It was him!  It was Daryl!  Those broad shoulders that seemed to carry the weight of the world, were a much welcomed sight.  She huffed out a sob, quickly catching herself, pressing her fingers to her lips and willing away the lump that was forming in her throat.  Her eyes burning with tears, and her chin quivering, she took a step out onto the porch and down a step, her free hand gripping the rail.  Daryl slowed to a stop in front of the house, put down the kick stand, and secured the bike.

“You’re back?” her voice cracked despite her best efforts to hold firm.

“Mm-hmm,” he nodded giving her a smile, pausing when he caught sight of her tears.  “What’s wrong?  You okay?”

She ran her fingers under her eyes to wipe away her silly tears, she scoffed and shook her head.  “I wasn’t, but I am now.”

Daryl squinted as he looked up at her, stopping at the bottom step.  “Tell me.”

“What did you hear?”

“You blew your housewife act…”

She winced, but nodded, picking at the frayed edge of her cardigan.  “Only a few saw it, Olivia… I didn’t have a choice, it was kill or be killed, and I-”

She sniffled, looking away from him.  Daryl reached up and rubbed his hand up and down her arm, “S’okay, you did what needed to be done.”

She turned back to him, lips trembling, and her voice barely a whisper.  “I am so tired, Daryl…  I’m so tired of the killing.  How many more lives need taking before we can get a moment’s peace? I just… I hate it.  I hate it.”   She sat down at the bottom step, and he joined her, wrapping his arm around her so she’d lean into his shoulder.  “And then you…,” she continued.  “It’s been days.  I was so worried, I knew you’d be back, but there were moments… I got really scared you weren’t coming back.”

Daryl nodded, “M’here now, ain’t goin’ nowhere for awhile.  That herd… ain’t nobody going to be left alive for miles around for awhile.  Staying here for the time bein’, gonna get them walls secured again.  Teach these people how to defend themselves good and proper.”

“You mean it?”

“Yeah, ‘course.”

She smiled, and dipped her head into the crook of his neck.  “Good,” she whispered.  “Because I need you here.”  Daryl turned his head just enough to kiss her hair, and leaned his head back down on hers.  “I need you too.”

 

 


End file.
